A Cage For Doves
by RebelGeneral
Summary: Freedom plucked from grasp, she was but 13 when sold into the house of Laurus; her mother's idol & Diotimis' kindness being her sole source of comfort. Through the years, Sibyl finds strength in her faith & the resolve to help those in need. It is at this time she first hears tale of Capua and it's renowned gladiator. Gannicus/Sibyl, Diotimis, Laeta, Attius, Laurus
1. The Price

'_Faster_,' her mind screamed.

They were close. So _very _close behind her she could almost feel them. Her heart jolted again and again at the thought, her face breathless.

There was little her tiny legs could do to serve her now.

She searched around frantically.

_Faces. _

So many faces.

No help came from them that day. They were like _ghosts_, waiting silently to watch her fail.

They turned to look at her as she scurried past them in the market, pushing all she could lay hands upon out of her way. She saw no compassion, only slight frowns of irritation, surprise and confusion as they observed the 13 year old girl.

_Please, _she heard a tiny voice escape.

_Help me._

The faces were rocks, her pleas trivial.

Her mother's voice, ever so sharp and reprimanding when she gave in to fear, resonated within her mind. _We do not beg_, she had told her.

She stifled her falling tears and quietened herself. She would do as her mother had taught her, _she would not beg_.

"Got her!"

Her mind turned numb as she was roughly hoisted from the ground, her frame dangling in someone's arms.

_Her father's._

'Don't run again_, little dove_,' he shouted in her ear, before placing her on the ground. His hand anchored firmly on her shoulder, digging so deep she could feel the hard bruising.

Two men and a woman came running behind him.

The woman was dark haired with eyes that held the softest expression. Eyes that had held her lovingly for many years while she had found sleep. Arms that her tiny form had grown accustomed to.

The woman hurried to her side, her long thick braid bouncing gracefully off her shoulder. She grasped the tiny girl from her father's grip and embraced her.

The little girl held on to her mother tightly, afraid to let go lest this be the final time they would ever be so close. She inhaled her scent, eyes shut tightly, willing the gods to change promised fate or halt time in this moment.

All was destroyed as her father pulled the two apart, telling one of the men to take a hold of his wife. She heard her mother's screams as she was taken away from her, her expression wild with fear and agony.

She held her mother's gaze and tried to give comfort the only way she knew how.

Taking her idol from her pocket, she held it tightly to her chest, gesturing to her mother that she was not alone. Reminding her that she still had the gods her mother believed in.

_They _would keep her safe. _They_ would bring them together again.

They were the only token left to her of sweet memories. Memories that had no place in her future.

'This is the child agreed upon?' A fat, balding man emerged into view, his eyes roving over her in scrutiny, 'Tis as if she would break upon slightest blow!'

'Apologies, Laurus,' she heard her father's voice, 'She is the only bargain I am willing to afford at this time. If you would grant more time...'

'I do not have time nor patience for your despicable requests. Perhaps you should have thought about the reprival before you made boastful gambles upon drunken nights!'

The other man chimed in, 'One among many wagers he has lost Dominus, last he had to bid farewell to his livestock and savings. And now,' he turned his eyes towards her, 'His own daughter is the price for his foolish endeavors.'

'A price I am willing to pay, much to my wife's dismay,' her father interjected, 'As long as I am _assured _of the settlement promised.'

'Very well,' Laurus circled around her eyeing her from head to toe and she swallowed silent tears, 'This one would be worth perhaps 30 dinare and the wager you lost worth 25. Sentaurus, grant this man the remaining balance of 5 and we shall conclude business.'

The other man ruffled through a purse, taking out a shiny coin and placing it firmly upon her father's palm.

'Perhaps this measly amount will ensure another week of mindless slumber, eh?' Sentaurus winked.

She felt panic grip her heart and she looked at her father, not understanding what had just happened, "Father," she managed a whisper, her eyes conveying what mouth was incapable of voicing.

She could smell the drink on him as he leaned down, a grin plastered on his face.

'It is for the best, _little dove_.' he stroked her cheek gently, 'And to think I never thought you would be of any use to me.'

_'No_!' she heard her mother's scream above the crowd. She turned to find her familiar soft eyes but _she could not see her_. With so many faces surrounding her, she could only hear her mother's voice, her screams.

Her eyes darted from the man Laurus to his slave, both of them eyeing her as gift long overdue. She could see the satisfaction in their eyes and something else she did not quite understand.

The man Sentaurus grabbed her roughly, dragging her away from her father and the distant, relentless cries of her mother.

"_Let me see her_,' she finally mustered her strength to voice, '_One last time._'

The slave pretended not to hear, but Laurus gripped her chin with a force that sent her jaw rattling.

'Then you better do as told if you wish to ever lay eyes upon her again,' he sneered.

She looked back, but all she saw were those faces, cold and indifferent, her father now among them, pleased as he counted his earning.

_Sold for a profit of 5 dinare. _

Her worth to her father settled within seconds as she was wretched from her mother's arms.

_She could never forget._


	2. The Golden God

She was in another house now with her Dominus, 5 years having passed since fate had taken unfortunate turn. She stood behind him with another body slave, head bent and mind numb.

She was a young woman now, unaware of her pull and beauty. No house slave at her dominus' was allowed to see self in mirror, her master believing the ill will of the gods would descend upon his fortune if such a thing occured. A cruel, superstitious man, he firmly held his slaves as bringers of bad luck and as a result, there was little they were allowed to do absent his consent.

Braiding her dark locks every night, she imagined if she looked like her mother. She would grow her hair long and tie it exactly as she remembered her mother did, casting it to the side. She tried to make out the color of her eyes in the reflection of water or a passing pond, but there was only little she could see staring back. Whether she had willed it through prayer or not, but her eyes stood as her mother's, blue and soft, sometimes filling with a resonating kindness that was so rare to find in that world.

_Now they stood empty._

Laurus was sitting with the town's magistrate, taking his time to toll over a game of _latrones_, their mouths voicing gossip and curses she held no concern for.

She contented herself by staring at the pieces on the board. They were so beautiful, carved to perfection. With her eyes she traced the contours of the castle, the pawns, her attention caught by the hard angles of the knight upon horse. The pieces kept moving as her master deemed necessary, some thrown carelessly aside as the game progressed.

_I am just like them_, she thought.

A piece in this world, to be claimed or thrown away at leisure, without any consequence to follow. _No different than this wooden knight_, she mused. The same hard angles had been built inside her to shield her from feeling all pain so callously inflicted.

Her heart jolted as the knight was struck to the side as her master shouted in triumph.

He did not notice her look of revulsion and continued on with his boisterous conversation. For a moment she was drawn in before idle mind took up another subject to fix gaze and thoughts upon.

They talked of the games.

_What games? _There were no games but those on the streets in Sinuessa.

She listened intently as the magistrate spoke of city far away from her home.

_Capua_.

'The largest arena in the Republic? Truthfully?' Laurus sneered in disbelief.

'Upon my honor. While we sit idle content with a game of indoor _latrones_, other cities have taken upon reveling in gladiator sport.'

'A thing I long to set eyes upon!' Laurus exclaimed, 'The blood of these shit eating slaves upon the sands is hardly an opportunity to let amiss.'

'I couldn't agree more, old friend. Although I do hear of tale of one granted freedom upon opening day.'

'_Freedom_?' Laurus snarled in disgust, 'For what purpose? It stands utter blasphemy to even speak of such for these ignoble creatures!'

'The _first_ champion of Capua they called him, I forget his name. They speak of him as a golden god upon the sands.'

Laurus scoffed, 'A slave can never be a _god_, their place is forever in shackles and lash.'

Pausing, he added, 'That city shall soon learn lesson from its mistakes of lending such ill placed honor upon these foulsome beings.'

'Of that I have no doubt,' the magistrate let out a laugh, 'Although tale doees inspire need to see the games for once and to behold such a marvel as the man who stood champion.'

'Champions are but myths, if I was to ever cross paths with this man, rest assured I would see him to his _true_ place.'

'As I know you shall,' the magistrate returned with good humor, 'I have grown accustomed to recognize your slaves by means of fear transpiring from them. It would be a shame if you made an exception for any other.'

Laurus laughed, seeming pleased with this reputation.

'God or not, freedom means shit with marks of slavery carved so deep within their loathsome souls. Despite the glory this tale offers, his place as well as the place of all these fucking shits,' he glanced at Sibyl and the body slave, 'Is beneath my heel.'

'_This_ one shudders easy,' the magistrate raised his eyebrows, eyeing Sibyl.

'Barely notice this one any more. She is as a shadow, one I don't concern self with, yet her body is a prize I deal with occasionally. She has brought me great profits upon day.' Laurus replied with a malicious smile.

Sibyl felt the wind knocked out of her as he grabbed her roughly, 'Fetch more wine, vermon.'

He pushed her away, her quick steps taking her away from their satisfied laughter at her terrified demeanor.

Her heart always beated faster when her master cursed at her, yet she suspected cause of such was _not_ the same as old.

It was this man they spoke of.

_The golden god._

_The gladiotor who won his freedom upon the sands._

Sibyl swallowed, her throat constricting with the thought.

_This man roamed free right this moment_, she thought, _his days as a slave long forgotten, his eyes bright with thoughts of a future he can now have._

Something denied _her_.

She was a mere body slave, a _woman. _What chance did she hold of earning her freedom?

_She was no gladiator. _

The tiny shimmer of hope she always kept alive suddenly grew dim.

She was caught in a dream and the light was fading, her eyes darting to the reality of a life unattainable. She envisioned a gladiator in the distance, golden haired, reaching towards the horizon, beckoning her to follow, but her feet stood still as stone.

She could not even see his face in the light, yet he was glorious.

_Envy. _

That was all Sibyl felt towards Gannicus that day.

The man who would become her _everything._


End file.
